


there's no better love (that ever has loved me)

by Selenophile (Jdoesitbetter)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Jaime wants to be a house husband, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Modern Era, Multi, No Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22288963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jdoesitbetter/pseuds/Selenophile
Summary: Five times Jaime doesn't actually propose, and one time he does.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 26
Kudos: 157





	1. A Lannister, Eventually

The first time Jaime doesn’t propose, it’s during one of their once a week coffee runs together during their lunch break.

“Tart!” the barista calls placing her coffee on the counter. Brienne sighs and walks up to claim her drink. As much as they come here, they never get it right. As she walks towards the exit with him, Jaime feels the need to point that out too chuckling, “Tart. That’s new. I think I rather like that one.”

“I’m starting to think they’re doing it on purpose.” Brienne grumbles into her coffee. 

“Brianne, Brian, Brandon, Tars, Tark, but Tart? That’s definitely the best one. Maybe I should stop calling you wench and start calling you tart.” He says as they turn on to the street, heading towards the station where they’ll separate. Jaime back to Lanniscorp, and Brienne in the other direction toward Stark Industries.

“Hmm, but what if you called me neither? Or better yet, how about you called me my actual name? Which is Brienne by the way.” Jaime just laughs.

“Where’s the fun in that my lovely wench?” he says grabbing her hand as they continue down the sidewalk. “Besides, it’s a term of endearment.” He says, pulling her hand to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. 

“Since when is ‘wench’ a term of endearment?” Brienne asks with a huff of laughter.

“Since I said it was. Would you rather I call you ‘sweetling’? You are rather delicious.” He answers with a salacious grin. 

Brienne rolls her eyes, “You’re gross.” 

“Just give them the name Lannister. Very recognizable, always spelled properly, and you’ll probably get your drink faster. I always do.”

This is true. No matter how crowded the shop is, how short staffed they may be, Jaime always gets his drink within two minutes. This is in spite of the fact that he always has a complex order, to Brienne’s very simple large black coffee, with two sugar pumps. She shoots him a severe look anyway. 

“Jaime, they very well know I’m not a Lannister.” 

“Ah technicalities. You’re a Lannister in my heart, and you’ll be one eventually.” He says as they approach the tube station. Brienne shoots him a confused look. He cocks his head in reply.

“What do you mean by that?” She says, voicing her thoughts aloud. 

“I mean you will be a Lannister, in the future.” Jaime replies, as if she is being slow. 

“Yes but how?”

“Marriage. How else?” 

They’re right at the station now, pausing to the side of the entrance as people hurry to head back from lunch breaks. She knows they need to get a move on, but she just needs to clarify.

“Sorry, just... have I missed something?” She ask in a bepuzzled tone. 

“Your train if you don’t get to your stop in time.”

“Yea, see, it’s just that marriages usually have some sort of proposal involved. I don’t remember being in one of those. And this certainly can’t be it.” She says raising a brow at him. 

Jaime laughs. “No, wench I haven’t proposed.” He says. And then he plants a quick kiss on her lips before saying, “Goodbye sweetling!” with a smirk and wave as he heads down the street to Lanniscorp. 

Brienne continues to stand there, before realizing that she is in people’s way and probably looks like an idiot standing on the sidewalk staring into the air like that. She heads across the street, and catches her train back to the office. 

* * *

  
  


It’s not that Brienne doesn’t want to get married, it’s just that, well, she's not sure that she does. 

Don’t get it wrong. She loves Jaime and could see herself with him for a long time and all, but marriage is just a huge commitment. Grant it, they already live together, they’ve known each other five years, been dating for two, and are soon going to hit a year of cohabitation. All of that’s well and good, but in the context of marriage, it just seems a bit much. 

Besides, she’s never really seriously thought of marriage past her adolescence, and her fathers twice yearly nudge for her to settle down and maybe give him a grandkid or two. It just never seemed to be in her stars. Brienne is no dummy, she knows what she looks like, knows that she isn't traditional or even particularly conventionally attractive. She knew that the chances of her actually finding a man that she would want to be with forever were slim to none. And then came Jaime.

Jaime fucking Lannister. Handsome, charming, sometimes sweet, sometimes an asshole, and a big smart ass Jaime Lannister. He came along, and at first, he would’ve been the last person on earth that Brienne would even dain to consider to be with. And then somehow he weaseled his little way in, endearing her, becoming her friend, being open and vulnerable, and then he started trying to woo her. At first, she took it as a joke, but Lannisters aren’t quitters. He kept it up, and she couldn’t help but to fall. 

And now she was in way too deep, she knew that within the first few months of dating him. But now here she is, years later with him talking about marriage, and her ready to… she doesn’t know. _What did you think Brienne? That you were going to shack up with him for the rest of your life until one of you got bored or died? Of course he wants to get married. He’s 37, unmarried, no kids, and has an overbearing father in his ear every five seconds about his responsibility to his family._

If she’s being completely honest with herself, she doesn’t hate the idea of being with Jaime for the long haul, but there’s a lot of things she’s not sure she wants with that. Mainly, she doesn’t want to be a fucking Lannister. She is Brienne Tarth, she likes being a Tarth, she wants to be a Tarth forever. She wants her kids ( _oh gods does he want kids? How many? What if I decide not to? Why haven’t we talked about this before?)_ to be Tarths. She also doesn’t want to be obligated to attend Lannister events. Of course during the five years she's known him, she's met all of his family members at one point or another. They are well aware of her position in Jaime’s life, but she keeps her distance, mostly because they’re batshit crazy, and she doesn’t want to be involved, although she doesn’t mind Tyrion. 

So she doesn’t want to be a Lannister and…and... _I just can’t be someone's wife. I can't do it. I can't bear the pressure._ She’s thought about it all day long, and finally come to the decision. She’ll tell Jaime tonight over dinner that she’s not sure she’s ready to get married just now, or potentially ever. She starts packing up her things, she’s about 45 minutes past the time she normally leaves, and she knows her dedicated assistant Podrick won't leave until she’s gone. She turns out the lights, closes and locks the door, and bids Podrick a good night. 

She checks her phone as she’s leaving the building. She’s got a few text from Margery with some finer details on the surprise party that she and Loras are throwing Renly in about six weeks. She quickly taps out a reply of approval before moving on to her other notifications. There’s a voicemail from her dad that she’ll listen to once she’s home, and two text from Jaime from about 30 minutes ago. 

**i see i beat you home today. want salmon for dinner?**

**i’ve started on dinner it’s gonna be salmon**

She likes the message and types out,

**Sounds good! I’m on the way home should be there in 20ish.**

She watches as the typing bubbles pop up, and then a new message a few seconds later.

**see ya in a bit xo ;D**

She gets to her station and waits for about 8 minutes for the next train to arrive. The ride to her stop is uneventful. When she arrives at the stop, she gets off to begin the ten minute walk back to her apartment with Jaime. They live in a nice area, not at the heart of the city, but not too far outside of it either. It was a compromise between them once they decided to move in together. She had refused to move into his penthouse at the Red Keep (though she’s sure he’s kept it). And he had claimed her place was too small. 

Apartment hunting had been both fun and challenging. On the one hand, she was stubborn and was unwilling to budge about the price point, despite Jaime's many claims that money was of no importance. The other challenge was location as it relates to their respective workplaces. Jaime believed that she should just get a car and that'd make it a non issue. But Brienne didn’t want a car. To stay in their price point, they both had to move a little further from their workplaces. This wasn’t a problem for Jaime, as he liked driving in the city, and showing off his fancy car. Brienne knew how to drive, but wasn’t keen on it in a city environment. She grew up driving on the rolling hills and clear roads of Tarth, and didn’t appreciate the hustle and bustle of King’s Landing. 

She walks up the short stairs and unlocks the front door, closing it behind her as she steps into the hallway. 

“Brienne?” Jaime calls from the kitchen, as she hangs up her bag and begins to take off her coat and shoes.

“Who else dear?”

“Thought it might be my other heavy footed girlfriend.”

Brienne chuckles lightly at that. Jaime walks from the kitchen to greet her. He has already changed out of his suit from earlier and is wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Even dressed like that, and with shower damp hair he looks magazine gorgeous. He gives her a quick kiss, but Brienne pulls him back in for a deeper one. He smiles before pulling back. “The food’s almost ready. Go change out of those clothes and come eat.”

“Alright,” she says, and kisses him once more before going to their room to change. 

When she gets back out the table is set and they sit to eat. The food is fairly good. It had surprised Brienne that Jaime was a proficient cook. She had imagined that he would’ve grown up with a chef (he did) and never learned the skill. But apparently he learned in college because he was a picky eater, and hated the cafe food. 

Over dinner, he told her about his workout with Bronn, and the new girl Tyrion had gone and fallen in love with. She told him about how the planning for Renly’s party was going, and about a few project Catelyn had her working on. 

After dinner, she did the washing up as Jaime put the dishes away. When they finish, they parted ways. Jaime to the living room to watch the game, and Brienne to their bathroom to shower. When she finished, she came to the living room to find Jaime laid back on the couch, tranquility watching the game. 

“Come here.” He says, opening his arms to her. She goes and lays down with him, resting her head on his chest. He wraps his arms around her and rubs her back while still watching the game. She quietly wishes that she had brought her book with her, but is too content to move. 

She forgets all about not wanting to get married. 


	2. Mrs. Lannister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody messes up Brienne's name. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words, Kudos, comments, and subscribes. It kept me going in writing this chapter, which was for whatever reason, extremely difficult. This chapter was inspired by Of Lawyers and Vodka by almostabeauty. 
> 
> As always, unbetaed and posted at 3am. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> *note the rating change from Mature to Explicit :)

The second time Jaime doesn’t propose is two weeks after the first not-proposal. They are going to the semi-annual corporate banquet where various members of the company brown nose each other for three hours in an attempt to get ahead. Jaime has skipped the past two, but Tywin would not allow his absence, so this year he’s going, and of course dragging Brienne along. 

Brienne stands in the mirror adjusting the cufflinks on her suit when Jaime steps out of the bathroom. 

“Do you think I should shave?” he asks, contemplatively. 

“Do you want to shave?” she questions back.

“I mean not particularly. But I haven’t been clean shaven in gods know how long, and maybe it would look more professional.” Jaime reasons back at her. 

“I don’t think anyone will care.” She says, having finished with her cufflinks, and walks inside her closet to retrieve the suit’s finishing touch. 

“I am the heir of Tywin Lannister, someone always cares. Usually Tywin.”

“Jaime, do whatever you feel is best.” She sighs at him from the closet. Jaime huffs. 

“But I want to know what you think is best.”

“Fine keep the beard.”

“Wait really? Or are you just saying that to shut me up?” Brienne was saying it to shut him up, but she wasn’t going to admit it. 

“Really. You should keep the beard.” She says with sincerity as she begins to pull Loras’ new design for her out of its dress bag. 

“Why?” Jaime challenges. 

“Because I like the beard. I’ve gotten used to it.” Brienne replies honestly. The last time he shaved it had been weird to see him bare face, and she was happy for its return, although the stubble burn was hell to go through.

“Welp my wench likes it so that’s that on that. Beard stays. Father and the rest of the Westerosi elite can suck my c-”

“Jaime!” 

“Brienne!” He says attempting to imitate her. Poorly. She rolls her eyes and walks back out of the closet with Loras’ piece, and grabs her purse off of the dresser. 

“Are you ready to go?” She asks turning to Jaime. 

“Yes.” He replies. And then, “Is that Loras’ new design for you?” 

“Yes. Come help me put it on.”

He walks over to her and takes the thick fabric from her hand. Letting the cloth fall into its natural shape. He turned it flipped and turned it over, confused by the design. Brienne reaches out and adjusts it properly in his hands, before turning her back to him. 

“It’s like a cape. You need to clip it to my lapels.” She says. 

“Aahh. Got it.” He proceeds to do as instructed.

Once he’s clipped it on, he smooths out the fabric, rubbing his hands across Brienne’s considerable shoulder span, and down her arms.The cloak is a dark sapphire blue. It is accented by golden embroidered eventstars, and homage to her house and her lineage. She wanted to proudly represent Tarth, as all these highborn Westerosies are likely to be doing the same. Jaime’s Lannister gold suit jacket is certainly representing the house well. And his diamond lion cufflinks with ruby eyes send a message.

Jaime walks around to the front of her. “I quite like this,” He says approvingly. “It reminds me of those old traditional wedding cloaks. Loras has out done himself.” And then he takes her face gently between both hands, stands on his toes, and pulls her face down to plant a soft kiss to her wide mouth. 

“Come on. The drivers downstairs.” He says, taking her hand. She grabs her clutch off the dresser, and follows him down. 

* * *

The cool September air brushes Brienne’s face as the valet boy opens the door for her. She steps out in front of the WestInn. The most expensive and lavish hotel in King’s Landing, so of course LannisCorp books it’s ballroom every year. As Brienne walks toward the revolving doors, Jaime emphasizes to the driver once again to pick them up in exactly an hour and fifteen minutes. She pauses waiting for him to catch up. He finally lets the driver go, and jogs up to her. 

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes.” Brienne replies.

Jaime takes her hand. She gives it a squeeze. He leads her towards the ballroom down past the line of people waiting to get checked at the door. A woman greets them as they arrive. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Lannister. Right this way.” Brienne blinks in surprise even as she feels the blush creeping up her face. Jaime follows her like nothing out of the ordinary just occurred. The woman leads them directly to Tywin, who is standing next to his assistant with his mouth turned down with contempt. 

“You’re late.” Tywin says, without so much as a hello.

“I thought balls were a rolling admissions type thing.” Jaime says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“For regular people. Not for heirs to multibillion dragon companies.” Tywin responds. Jaime rolls his. lets a small huff escape him as he averts his gaze. Even now, it’s still hard for Brienne to watch Jaime be berated by his father, despite its frequent occurrence. 

Tywin turns to Brienne, eyes dragging over her form. “Ms. Tarth, you look well this evening. Your cloak is particularly eye-catching, although Lannister colors would be more apt for the event.” He says.

“Thank you Mr. Lannister, but I’m not a Lannister, I’m a Tarth and I represent my house proudly.” She says, unwavering in the face of his critique. Tywin glances at Jaime significantly. Jaime works his jaw in annoyance. Tywin gaze shifts back to Brienne as he says, “Ms. Tarth I need to speak to my son. Please feel free to enjoy the hordevours,” dismissing her. 

Jaime looks at her and gives her a barely perceptible headnod. She gives Jaime’s hand a brief squeeze before letting go, and walking away. She doesn’t wander far, just over to where they have the bar set up at. She can still see Jaime and his father talking. Or rather Tywin is talking, and Jaime is clenching his jaw in annoyance. The bartender asks what she’d like to drink and she orders a simple whiskey, and nurses it while gazing at the room. It’s packed with various highborn, old money families, and some new money folks obviously trying to make a name for themselves amongst these shark like people. She continues to people watch until the sound of Jaime’s voice ordering a whiskey neat breaks her from her reverie. As the bartender pours the drink for him, he looks at her and shakes his head. Once the drink is served he slams it back in one go and orders another. Brienne raises her brows in alarm.

“Everything alright?” She asks, voice tinted with concern.

“Father is forcing me to go talk to these people.” Jaime grumbles into the tumbler. He nurses his second drink much slower. She can tell by how he avoids her gaze that that isn’t the full story. 

“Mmm. You could just ignore him,” she suggests. Jaime gives her a side eye and Brienne laughs full out, the ring of it lost to the chatter of the ball room. He finishes up his drink and places it on the counter.

“You coming with me?”

Bienne shrugs and says, “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Their rounds consist mostly of talking to people she doesn’t know. Jaime jokes, and talks about the successes of the company in a cocky manner. Her role is mostly to stand and smile, which is fine by her because none of it is interesting. After talking to countless people Jaime grabs her hand and sighs in relief. “We’re done. Let’s go.” he says. 

In the car he is quiet in the way he only is when something is truly bothering him. Though he’s holding her hand, he gazes out of the window lost in thought. Brienne decides not to push it while they’re in the car. When they arrive home, Jaime heads immediately for the shower, stripping off his suit as he goes. Brienne undresses and hangs up her clothes as she waits her turn. Once he walks out with a towel around his waist, and a cloud of steam following him, Brienne hops in. She doesn’t linger around. She gets immediately to the task looking forward to crawling into bed. As she’s brushing her teeth, Jaime comes in to pee. They maneuver around each other as he washes his hands and she brushes. She returns to the sink when he’s finished, but he doesn’t leave the bathroom, choosing to step behind her and wrap his arms around her waist and rest his chin on her shoulder. She’s wiping her mouth after spitting when she asks him, “Do you want to talk about whatever Tywin said that’s got you in a funk?” resting her hands over the ones wrapped around her waist. Jaime huffs. 

“I’m not in a funk.” He grouses.

“Hmm. Sure you aren’t.” Brienne responds. He nips at her neck in protest. “What did he say Jaime?” She wheedles. 

Jaime huffs. “Why won’t you let it go?” he asks, irritation leaking into his voice.

“Because you’ve been grumpy all night and I’ve got to sleep next to you, not him.” She says. Jaime sighs.

“It was just his usual ‘House Lannister, build a legacy, Hear Me Roar’ bullshit. Typical Tywin.” He says meeting her eyes in the mirror. Brienne’s brow furrows in confusion.

“But why were you so-” She is cut off as he spins her towards him, emerald eyes staring intently into sapphire ones. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He says, eyes staying laser focused on hers. “Do you know what I want to talk about?” He asks.

“What?” Brienne says, her response coming out breathier than she would like. It always does when he gazes at her like that. Like he’s starving. 

“I want to talk about how pretty you blushed when that woman called you Mrs. Lannister.” He says, leaning down to suck her neck. Brienne lets out a long breath she didn’t realise she was holding. 

“She clearly made a mistake.” She says as Jaime walks her backwards into the bedroom, mouth still managing to roam her neck, as his hands unwrap the towel from around her. 

“I wish it wasn’t a mistake,” he murmurs against her mouth before kissing her, tongue pushing between her thick lips. He gently lays her across the bed even as she makes a questioning noise into the kiss. “I wish that was your name,” he clarifies as his mouth roves downward, kissing across her collar bones. 

“Not a proposal, Jaime,” she groans out as he draws one of her hard nipples into his mouth for a long suck. He pulls off with a pop, and a grin. 

“Not a proposal, Brienne.” He agrees, before licking across her chest and tracing her breast with his tongue, before pulling that nipple into his mouth. He does this back and forth, developing a rhythm in time with Brienne’s moans. When he stops, he rises up on his elbows above her, and looks into her eyes. 

“I need you to do something for me,” he says.

Brienne gazes back at him, lost in the forest of his eyes. “Anything,” she says.

“I need you to focus.” He says, and then he lowers himself in between her thighs, kissing down past her breast over her stomach, and finally nuzzles his nose in the soft hair of her cunt. He lifts her right leg over his shoulder, and gazes at her again. “Focus,” he says one last time before parting her wet folds with his tongue. She gasps as his tongue traces a pattern over her. He squeezes her thigh, lifts his head and says, “Say it out loud for me, Brienne.” She has no idea what he’s talking about, moaning at his ministrations. He squeezes her thigh a bit harder this time and she remembers his directive.  _ Focus.  _

He’s been making the same pattern with his tongue. She tries to focus on it, and realizes it’s a letter.

“Oh gods, is that an M?” she asks, breathless. She thinks she hears him murmur “Good girl,” before he continues. 

“R?” She says next. He hums against her slick skin.

“S?” She guesses next, hands floating down to run through his golden hair. He’s tracing another letter, and this one is rather easy to follow. 

“L” she says, followed by and “Oh fuck,” when she realizes where this is going. She’s almost lost to the feeling of his tongue against her. He is focusing more on her clit, giving it a long slurp after each letter of his name. Somewhere around the second N he shifts and pushes two fingers into her. He groans as she clenches tightly around his fingers. At the end of the R he goes for broke, fingers and tongue working in overdrive to bring her off. She feels herself peak and cries out his name. He works her all the way through it before lifting up. His mouth and beard are still wet with her juices as his hand flies over his cock. She feels his cum splatter across her cunt and stomach as she comes down from her orgasm, and he groans through his. 

Before collapsing, he picks up the towel discarded by the bed to clean them off. It gets tossed to the side as he falls back on the bed with a deep groan, pulling Brienne over him. She cuddles into his chest, eyes closed and half asleep already.

“Enjoy that, Mrs.Lannister?” Jaime asks. Voice sounding distant.

“Yea,” she says, drifting off. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Lifetime Guarantee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommen has a soccer game, Brienne keeps getting called the wrong thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to think an alternate name for this could've been "People calling Brienne things shes technically not". Title from "Babyfather" x Sade

The third time Jaime doesn’t propose is all Tyrion’s doing, though he claims to not have had a hand in it. Jaime knows the truth. 

He gets a call from Cersei late Monday evening. He’s a bit surprised because they normally don’t call each other, but he answers by the second ring anyway. 

“What are you doing Thursday?” She says, directly to the point.

“Well hello to you too sweet sister. I’m doing fine. How are you?” 

“Jaime, I don’t have time for your games. Just tell me what you’re doing,” she huffs. 

“Well Brienne and I were going to swing by Tyrion’s new lounge for a bit.” He replies. Tyrion had just opened another spot in King’s Landing. He already owned two clubs.

“Scrap that. I need you to go to Tommen’s soccer game. It’s the first of the season, but Myrcella’s got a dance audition that I have to be at with her.”

Jaime wants to ask why Robert can’t go, but figures it’s best not to poke at an agitated Cersei. “I’ll have to check with Brienne, but that should be fine.” Brienne walks in right at that moment, having finished with the washing up from dinner. 

“Check with me about what?” She says, grabbing her pajamas as she makes her way to the bathroom. Jaime waves her off as he hears Cersei scoff across the line. Brienne shrugs and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. 

“What is she your mother?” Cersei asks. Jaime ignores her.

“Don’t start Cers. Where’s the field?” He asks.

“I’ll text it to you tomorrow. Make sure you get there on time Jaime.” she nags.

“I will I will.” Jaime says, verbally waving her off. 

“I’m serious. Tommen’s not like us. He’s a sweet boy. He needs someone there.”

“I’m a sweet boy!” Jaime protests.

“Be there on time. In fact, be there early.” And then the line cuts, signalling that he’s been hung up on. Jaime shakes his head at his phone just as Brienne is coming out of the bathroom in her night clothes. 

“Who was that?” She asks.

“Cersei.” Brienne makes a small face, to which Jaime chuckles a bit. 

“One day, you’ll both learn to like each other.” He says. Brienne rolls her eyes. 

“The day the seven hells freeze over, and dragons fly over like birds.” She says sarcastically as she climbs into bed with him.

“She's not  _ that  _ bad Bri.” He defends. Brienne gives him a look.

“She's not that bad  _ to you. _ ” She counters. He can’t really argue with it, so he moves on.

“Would you mind terribly if we skipped Tyrion’s on Thursday, and went to Tommen’s soccer game? Cers wants me to be there cause it’s the first of the season, and she can’t.”

“I don’t mind, but why can’t Robert go?” She says, lying against his chest a bit.

“I didn’t even dare to ask. More trouble than it’s worth with those two.” He explained. Brienne hums in agreement. 

“You sure you’re ok with skipping the lounge?” He says, wanting to double check.

Brienne huffs. “Yes I’m sure. Besides, Tommen’s a sweet boy. He deserves to be cheered on.” 

“He gets that from me.” Jaime says. Brienne barks out a laugh. Jaime frowns. “I’m a sweet boy.” He says, nuzzling into Brienne’s neck. She laughs some more. Jaime’s feeling a bit offended, honestly. 

“You are not a sweet boy. You are a nasty man.” She says, as he starts to kiss her neck. 

“Mmm,” he hums against her neck, “I can show you a nasty man.” He says shifting down. His mouth is too busy to say much after that. 

* * *

The week trickles on as usual. 

Tuesday Jaime text Tyrion about the change in plans. Tyrion replies with a frowny face and a spiel about how Cersei never invites him to be in the kids life. Jaime doesn’t know what to say so he screenshots the message and sends it to Brienne with some question marks. She tells him to invite him, so he forwards the address of the field to Tyrion. 

Wednesday is uneventful except for Brienne surprising him during his lunch by bringing him lunch. That evening Cersei calls to be a pain in his ass. He spends twenty minutes assuring her that he knows where the field is, that he will be on time, and that he’ll cheer really very loud. He huffs a heavy sigh after ending their phone call. 

“The things you do for family.” He says, leaning back against the couch and letting his head rest against the back of it. Brienne raises a brow at him. 

“What?” He asks, side eyeing her. 

“Don’t pretend you’re not excited to go to this game.” She says, blacking her phone screen and lightly nudging him with her outstretched foot. He is excited if he’s being honest. He likes soccer and he loves Tommen. That doesn’t mean he wants Cersei fussing at him on the phone. He says as much to Brienne. She shakes her head at him. “She’s just being a mom. Cut her some slack.” She defends. 

“Is that how moms are?” He asks. 

Brienne just shrugs. “I don’t know, really. Catelyn can be a bit tense about her kids sometimes, but other than her I don’t know too many moms.”

“Me neither outside of Cers,” he starts, and then teasingly adds, “Look at you defending her. There’s hope for you two yet.”

Brienne outright laughs at that. “Uh no. I was just giving her a little slack. Being high strung about your kids is normal I think.”

“Are you going to be high strung about our kids?” He says. Brienne pauses at that. Jaime wonders if he’s ruined the moment. Her lips are still smiling, but that particular light in her eyes is nowhere to be found. He’s afraid he’s said the wrong thing, or mentioned kids too soon, but they had to have this conversation at some point right? He’s just about to retract his statement when she shrugs, and then kicks him a bit. “That depends. Are you going to be high strung?” 

He doesn’t hesitate with his response. “Oh absolutely. If anyone so much as breathes wrong on their golden little heads, they’ll be hearing from me.” 

Brienne laughs. “By the Seven. I’ll have to be the relaxed parent so they don’t turn into ‘I’m calling my father’ type kids.”

“There’s nothing wrong with them calling me. They should call me so I can swoop in and save the day. It’s what dads do. And I’ll do whatever intimidation needs doing.” Jaime says, undeterred by her joke. Brienne looks at him with something like horror. “Oh no.” She says.

“What?”

“Oh my gods.”

“What?” he repeats.

“You’re one of them. You’re the ‘I’m calling my dad!’ kid. I’m dating one of those types.” She says, pulling her feet back from him and scooching away in fake disgust. 

“Oh no you don’t.” He says, grabbing her legs and pulling her back towards him. She screeches at him and swats, but ultimately doesn’t fight him off once he’s got his arms around her. 

“I never actually had to call Tywin or use his name like that.” He clarifies. “Most of the time, Tywin’s name preceded me. Or he knew what was happening before I even had to tell him. Like with Aerys. He had lawyers, and bribes ready before I even washed the man's blood off my fist.” 

“It was self defense. It was an accident.” She protests, being incredibly idealistic as usual. 

“It doesn’t matter if the edge of that table is what ultimately killed him. Had it not been for the Lannister name, the Targaryens would have buried me under a prison.”

Brienne is quiet for a long moment, her hands playing with the bottom of his shirt. “Does that ever bother you? Everything associated with your family.” she asks.

_ Only all the time, _ he thinks. “Sometimes. But I’m so indebted to it. Who would I be if I wasn’t Jaime Lannister, Tywin Lannister’s son?” He says, sounding more bitter than he intended. 

Brienne turns around to look him in the eyes. “Don’t say that. You’d still be you. You’d still be a good man.” She says, voice full of sincerity, eyes burning with earnestness.  _ Gods this woman will be the death of me _ , he thinks. He loves her most when she’s telling him the truth, which very few people ever do.  _ I have to marry her.  _ And he’s tempted to just ask her right then and there, on a random Wednesday night while they’re wrapped up on the couch. But he’s got a plan, and he’s going to see it through. So what he says instead is, “We should go to bed. We’ve got a long day that involves a young child, and a Cersei.” He gets up, offering his hand out to Brienne. She takes it and says, “Gods help us.” 

* * *

The first thing Jaime says when they get there is, “Why does everyone have chairs?” The next is him shouting out Tommen’s name. The bright eyed blonde turned from his warm ups and waved enthusiastically. They waved back with equal enthusiasm. Not wanting to distract him anymore, they continued over to the bleachers. 

“Is Tyrion coming?” Brienne asks, as they take a seat on the third row. 

“I don’t know. He never said.” Jaime replies.

“Can you text him? I’ll save him a spot if he is.”

Jaime gives a grunt of affirmation, before pulling out his phone and shooting off a text to Tyrion. A few seconds later Tyrion responds that he’s pulling into the parking lot now. Jaime let’s him know that they’re saving him a seat. 

“He’ll be here in a second.” He turns and says to Brienne. 

True to form, he is there within a few minutes. They exchange pleasantries as the warmups end and the game starts. Jaime asks about how Tyrion’s new business is doing while the game goes on. Tommen isn’t even playing so there's not much to pay attention to. Eventually their conversation trickles off into silence. After a few minutes of watching the game, Tyrion chimes up, “I should’ve brought a beer. This is more boring than I expected.” Jaime laughed while Brienne rolled her eyes. He also notices some parents side-eyeing them. 

After the game ends, Tommen’s team wins 1-0, the three of them approach Tommen, who runs to greet them excitedly. 

“Uncle Jaime! Uncle Tyrion! Aunt Brienne!” he says, excited hugging all of them. Jaime raises his brow at the change in Brienne’s title. Up until that point he’d always called her Ms. Brienne. He can tell that Brienne too is surprised by this greeting, but doesnt say anything about it. Tyrion is slightly smirking. Which means he probably had something to do with it. Jaime plans to interrogate him later about it. 

“Great game kid.” He says, ruffling Tommen's hair. The young boy beams up at him.

“And your first win! Amazing!” Brienne adds a little awkwardly, but smiling kindly. Jaime thinks that's adorable. 

“Thanks. Some of the team is going for ice cream to celebrate. Can I go?” Tommen asks. Jaime looks to Brienne and Tyrion. Tyrion shrugs and says, “That’s probably a question for your mother, as I’ve got to head back to work. Really great game Tommen! You’ll be a star yet.” He nods to Brienne and Jaime in departure, and turns to leave. 

Tommen now looks to Jaime with an expectant look on his face. Jaime says, “I’m not sure your moms here yet, but I’ll call her and see about ice cream. Go get your things together.” Tommen skips off as Jaime gets his phone out to ring Cersei. 

“Are you on your way?” he asks in lieu of greeting.

“Not yet. Is the game over?” she replied.

“Yes. But don't worry about it. We are going to take Tommen to ice cream and then drop him home. Yea?”

“That’s fine. Have him home by 8 please.”

“Of course.” he said to the beep of Cersei hanging up on him. He sighs. Brienne looks at him.

“Yes on the ice cream then?” she asks.

“Yea. Do you mind? I probably should’ve asked you first.” he replies, sheepishly. 

“I don’t mind. I could go for some ice cream.”

They gather up Tommen and his things, and head to the nearby ice cream parlor everyone’s headed to. It’s swamped by the team, but the workers are gracious about. Jaime and Brienne are left to their own devices as they step outside to eat, while Tommen chats and eats with his teammates. Jaime watches.

“What are you thinking of?” Brienne asks him, between spoonfuls of her coffee flavored ice cream. 

“It’s nothing really,” he replies. 

“No tell me.”

“Why?”

“You’ve just gone a bit gooey in the eyes, and I want to know what you’re thinking.” 

Jaime sighs. “Well it’s just, Tommen really is a sweet boy isn’t he? And I remember when he was born. He was barely bigger than my hand, and now he’s playing soccer, and having ice cream with teammates, and where’s the little toddler that used to walk up to me and say ‘Up’ so I’d carry him around?” he says, caught up in the memories of a very young Tommen. He’s broken from his reverie by Brienne’s chuckle. She looks at him fondly when she says. “Aww Lannister, you’ve gone soft.” Jaime gives a half shrug and rolls his eyes. “Old age.” he mutters before putting more ice cream in his mouth to stop anymore sappiness from coming out. 

Brienne is still gazing at him when she says “You want to be a Dad.” and it's more of a statement than a question really. And it’s true. He can see it now, their little blonde haired blue eyed kids, running around, being charming like him, but kind hearted like her, and stubborn like them both. He wants it desperately, it aches in his chest. 

“Yea. I do.” He replies, and then, “Do you want to be a mom?” and Brienne says nothing for a few moments, which stretch on like years. For whatever reason this feels major to him, one last important conversation, before going on with the rest of their lives. 

Her brow pinches a bit before responding. “You know, I never really gave it much thought before really. Like, I felt like I was supposed to give it more thought than I ever did. It never occurred to me that children were something that would ever really be an outcome in my life. But, I think now, yeah, maybe. I could do that. With you.” 

And Jaime hears all the things she’s saying, and all the things she isn’t. But all he really cares about is that she does want kids.  _ With him.  _ Jaime smiles. “Well maybe when we get home we should practice. You know, just to make sure we get it right when the time comes.” Brienne rolls her eyes at him. 

“Very smooth. Almost as smooth as your little ‘Aunt Brienne’ stunt with Tommen earlier. You know that's still not a proposal.” she says and Jaime laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“I swear I had nothing to do with that. It was all Tyrion's doing.” he claims.

“Ahh so it was Tyrion’s doing. And how’d he managed to pull that off? He claims to never see them?” She asks, not believing him.

“How should I know? He’s a devious plotting little imp.” 

“Right. Sure.”

“You know maybe Tommen just decided to call you that on his own. Sees you as family.” Jaime suggests. 

That gives Brienne pause, and then. “Either way. I’m not a proper Lannister,” she says, rising from the bench they're sitting on and offering her hand to Jaime. It;s time they collect Tommen and take him home. 

“Yet. You’re not a proper Lannister, yet.” Jaime says taking her hand. 

“Promises promises.” 

“All in good time, Wench.” he says, hugging her to him. And he’s got the perfect time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think I abandoned this? Me too. All I can say is 2020 was crazy. Some high points, and a lot of very low ones too. This chapter has been sitting in a google doc for months, and I have finally found the time, motivation, and energy to post it. All I can say was that last year was hard, but in those moments I turned to art, and specifically to the j/b fandoms works. It is a pleasure to write this ship, and it is a pleasure to read them as well. Thanks for enjoying this story (its not over yet, and I don't plan to abandon it) and thanks for being awesome creators, and readers. 
> 
> As always, no beta, all mistakes my own. I posted this at 3am so you know the vibes.

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed. All mistakes are my own.


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